The Complete Four Worlds Series

by Angela J. Ford

  51

  The Havens

  They crept closer, weaving their way through the dark trees, and in an instant, they could see it clearly. Once again, there was a large clearing, where the lights from the sky could be seen. In the middle, a fire flickered high into the sky; its flames leaping and growing with the strange music that seeped up from the ground and swelled from the treetops. At first, it was a sweet music with strings from a harp expertly plucked. Yet again, it was as intense as hollow wood that was beat upon, thrumming deeply across the glade. The shadows moved back and forth in the darkness, but it was clear a great many beasts danced in a circle around the fire; their mix of graceful and heavy footfalls caused the rhythmic thumping in the trees. They moved in a continuous circle, although some jumped and leaped in the air. Winged creatures fluttered in circles, creating their own lines in the air. Just as they began to sing a song in an unfamiliar tongue in the language of the forest, there was a cry, and all was plunged into blackness.

  A sharp warning hiss made the four jump, but all was dark and silent. Frozen in the sudden chill of the forest, they waited, unsure if or how to find their way back to the riverbank in the darkness. Bereft, Phyllis felt as if they had left their warm hearth for something better, only to find themselves falling prey to the elusive tricks of the forest. A sigh fell from the lips of Cuthan, and even in the shadows, Phyllis could tell his shoulders drop.

  “Why do you seek us?” A cold voice shot through the darkness, plunging its icy vibrations into their ears. “Why did you come to destroy our council?”

  A moment later, a white orb appeared, lighting up the clearing in the wood and allowing the four to plainly see the speaker. She was about a foot tall with long red hair that curled in wisps around her graceful body, and her skin was fair, almost a pale white. An orb of light hovered around her, giving her an aura of white light that would have glared harshly on her skin had she not been so beautiful. Her arms were encased in wings of a sheer coloring even the light could not clearly display. She spread her winged arms and had a hint of impatience on her marble-like face as she stared at the four.

  They gaped at her, wide-eyed and tongue-tied, wondering for a moment if they were all asleep and happened to be having the same dream.

  “Well?” the winged creatures demanded. “I am speaking in your language. Don’t you have tongues? Can you not give me a reply?”

  “Apologies,” Cuthan stammered as he recovered his speech. “Truly,” he went on earnestly. “We were not aware that we were interrupting your council; we were only enchanted by the fire and the beauty of your ritual…”

  “It is a council,” the creature snapped, fixing her large, round gray eyes on Cuthan’s emerald ones. “Oh.” She drew a deep breath as she met Cuthan’s eyes. He gave her a roguish grin, and her icy demeanor dissipated. “You must be outsiders?”

  “Yes,” Cuthan winked at her. “From the lands to the south. But there is a war, and we’ve been sent here.”

  The creature blinked her gray eyes at Cuthan. “War,” she said disgustedly. “Wars. Battles. Fighting. Life and death. That is all nonsense in the ‘outside world.’ Why do you come here?”

  “We are searching for an ancient power,” Cuthan began. “To aid us in bringing peace to these lands.”

  “These lands? You mean your lands in the outside world.” The creature shook her head disdainfully. She pointed at Cuthan. “Because of you, I may help. You have…” She waved her hands. “A destiny about you.”

  With that, she gave a shrill whistle and twirled around in the air. She called out in a musical voice in the foreign tongue. As if she’d flipped a switch, the fire in the middle of the glade came back on, this time burning much lower. Curious eyes watched the four as the creature led them across the clearing toward the fire. She motioned for them to sit as more creatures with long red hair and darker eyes gathered. Some carried small scepters with jewels glowing on top. White and yellow orbs fluttered around them; they were creatures with their own inner lights. The fire crackled warmly, welcoming them into its midst, and the beasts of the night faded into the shadows. They were all there: the deer, antelope, lions, bears, wolves, foxes, squirrels, chipmunks, birds of the air, and creatures of the thicket.

  The winged creature fluttered down to the ground and walked toward the fire, her feet bare. She spoke to it softly and lovingly until it burned even lower and quieter as if it were alive and could heed her words. Turning around, she faced the four, pacing back and forth, floating almost in the air. She spread her winged arms and pointed at Cuthan and Artenvox. “You are the Jeweled Ones?”

  “Yes.” Artenvox nodded, his long hair shining in the firelight.

  “You have been here before?” She cocked her head at them.

  “Yes.” This time Cuthan and Artenvox spoke in unison.

  “Then you have heard the voices, and you know truth demands a price.”

  Artenvox laughed a short hysterical laugh. “I was here before,” he explained. “I was told to find the Order of the Wise and the Horse Lords. I have done so, and I have returned because they tell me the key to saving these lands is here.”

  The creature shook her head. “Who told you that? The Truth Tellers?”

  “Yes.” Cuthan took over. “Who are you?”

  The creature turned, spreading her arms out. “This is the council of the creatures of the wood. My kind is Idrains; our type is Myidraids. There are many Idrains in the Four Worlds, although most dwell in the South World.”

  “Where are the Truth Tellers?” Artenvox demanded.

  Now it was the Myidraid’s turn to give a barking laugh. “You do not wish to know. They only give death, and you have escaped once. You will not escape again. Now tell me what you search for.”

  Cuthan spoke, wondering if he should trust the creatures of the wood. “The Order of the Wise told us to seek the Clyear of Power.”

  The Myidraid froze midstep, and the fire smoldered, leaving only the white and yellow orbs to cast shadows from the glade. One by one, the creatures of the wood began to leave, drifting away from the glade where words that should not be said were spoken aloud. When they were gone and only the multitude of Myidraids remained, the creature turned to them. “You seek the Clyear of Alaireia? The Clyear of Power? The very one the Five Warriors used in their time of need?”

  Phyllis felt her heart pounding, and she reached for Ilieus, realizing she did not know all that had happened to Artenvox and Cuthan during the time they spent in the north. The comfort from the rain and the beautiful lights of the forest faded into something sinister and evil.

  “Yes.” Cuthan nodded, his eyes begging for answers. “The Clyear of Power. Will you tell us what you know?”

  “We were here when the great dranagin came.”

  Phyllis jumped at the word, remembering how she’d left Roturk asleep by the riverbank.

  “She has her lair in the far northeast by Oceantic,” the Myidraid went on, “where all great beasts, such as that, dwell. There you’ll seek, and you shall find all you dream and fear and more. Many have gone. None have returned. A deadly foe such as a dranagin should not be taken lightly.”

  “We would go,” Cuthan replied, no longer attempting to charm the Myidraid with his smile. “We must go. Only, why would you not want that power for yourselves?”

  “Power?” the Myidraid scoffed. “You are foolish if you think an ancient power can change the world. It is only the hearts and minds of the people groups. You may be swayed by the desire for power, but it brings fear, and one cannot follow others because of fear. It must be because of truth, wisdom, and the deep desire to bring kindness to others. Nay, the people groups are foolish in wars of power. It is us, the immortals, who know what it truly means to live. Life is not a quest for power.”

  Ilieus leaned forward. “Your words,” she whispered. “I’ve heard them before. How?”

  “You.” The Myidraid peered at Ilieus. “You have seen beyond your years. You have spoken wi
th one who knows the wisdom of the world. That should have been impossible.” She grew silent, looking at each of them with of curious gray eyes.

  “What of the Purebloods and the Blended Ones?” Phyllis could hardly believe she dared ask such a question. “Who is right?”

  The Myidraid fixed Phyllis with a cold glare; her voice almost became icy again. “Purebloods are pure; the power flows freely through their veins. The Blended Ones are muddied; their powers flow stronger because of it, but it is mixed and dangerous. Potent. Beware the Blended Ones.” She finished sharply, glaring into Phyllis’s mind as if she knew exactly who and what she was. “Now come. It grows late for you; come to our havens where you shall sleep safely as our guests.”

  “Thank you. We are honored,” Cuthan replied reverently.

  The Myidraid rose, floating into the air, and a white orb floated above her. The other Myidraids rose with her, scattering light into the sky, sending orbs twinkling through the forest. An owl flew overhead, hooting in pleasure at its beauty.

  They came to a clump of bushes; each one had an opening that tunneled into a small room. Inside was a bed made of feathers, fur, and leaf. They crawled inside one of the havens, and when they lay down, the scents of fresh herbs drifted to their noses. In the distance, they could hear the music of the council starting again, and the orbs of the night rushed away to dance while the four sank into the deepest, purest sleep they’d ever had since being born. They slept so soundly that they did not hear the voices, repeating the unending chant.

  The forest will tell you the truth.

  The trees will give you knowledge.

  In exchange for one terrible price,

  They will tell you all you wish to know.

  The truth and why the world fades.

  The end of the world is near.

  There’s something you can do

  If only you can escape.

  Beware. Be warned.

  The price you pay is death.

  52

  Monsters in the Forest

  Phyllis woke to what she hoped was dawn. Stretching, she slithered through the dirt to the opening of the Havens. The glade was dotted with the tiny homes made out of bushes, yet they appeared to be a natural occurrence of the forest. Phyllis crawled out into a world of mist that hovered above the ground and floated through the bushes. As she stood tall, the mist faded, moving away from her as if it were alive.

  The air was clammy, and she rubbed her shoulders as she turned, her dark hair falling in a billowing cloud around her face as she spun. Her eyes fell on the bush she’d just crawled out from, and she walked back toward it. Perched on top was a white handkerchief of sorts. Reaching out, she stroked her finger across its silken surface. It fell open; a scattering of acorn shells dropped away from it. Inside, on the piece of cloth, was a hunk of white cheese, a slab of bread, a pile of bright red berries, and a sample of nuts. Phyllis found herself smiling as she picked up a plump berry and bit into it, the crimson sweetness burst into her mouth with vigor. An emptiness resounded in her belly, and she ate faster, tasting the cheese next before moving on to crunch the nuts. She glanced around as she ate, watching the mist shift and curl like fingers, deciding what to do with itself.

  Moments later, Cuthan crawled out of the Havens. His normally perfect hair was flying in all directions, and there were bits of twigs and leaves stuck in it. Phyllis giggled as she looked at his sleep-smeared appearance.

  “What?” he exclaimed aghast, inspecting his clothes for wrinkles. Standing, he deftly ran his nimble fingers through his hair, tossing the bits of green out of it. “What are you eating?”

  “Oh, they left us gifts.” Phyllis pointed to the bushes.

  Cuthan spun around and froze before unwrapping the pile of silk resting just so on the velvety green of the bush. “They were marvelous, don’t you think?” he asked through a mouthful of cheese. He had purple berries, and when he lifted his face, Phyllis saw it was stained with the juice, and she wondered if her own mouth was blood-red.

  “They were curious,” Phyllis replied, unsure whether she wanted to trust the words of the Myidraid. “Beautiful yet…there was something about them.” She turned her back on Cuthan.

  “Ah.” Artenvox crawled out, yawning. “I haven’t slept like this since…” He cocked his head in confusion. “Well, since ever. We should stay and find out more from them.”

  Cuthan held up the white silk. “This says something on it.”

  Phyllis reached for hers, holding it up in the dimness of the forest. Sprawled across the silk was a word. Just one word, and one she could actually read because it was in the common tongue. It said: “Beware.”

  She put it down, her hands shaking. Swallowing hard, she turned to Cuthan. “What does yours say?”

  “‘Mindless’,” he replied, “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “Mine says ‘Monrage.’” Artenvox spoke through a mouthful of food. “I’ve never heard that word before. What does it mean?”

  Cuthan shrugged his shoulders as Ilieus crawled out. She’d taken the time to braid her hair into a crown on her head. “What is it?” she asked as the others stared at her.

  “A gift from the creatures of the wood.” Phyllis held up the silk cloths. “They left us a message.”

  Ilieus turned, holding the silk napkin up, her blueberries spilling everywhere. She held the wedge of cheese while shaking acorns over the bush. They thumped along the ground and disappeared among the leaves. “‘Blended,’” she read.

  “Blended. Beware. Mindless. Monrage.” Phyllis repeated.

  They looked at each other, unspoken questions rising and falling in their minds. It was Cuthan who shrugged. “We should go, although I was hoping they would bid us goodbye.”

  Ilieus walked up to him, reaching out a hand to take the silk cloth with the words scribbled in black ink. Her fingers brushed against his as she took it; a thought danced through her mind, out of reach, too far away to see. She examined it, her face a mask of confusion, before handing it back to Cuthan and walking away.

  They followed her, leaving the quiet havens, although they wanted to stay. When Phyllis looked back to capture the odd world in her memory, all she saw were fingers of fog as if the havens had never been there. It was then that she heard the voice of the flute again. It seemed to be coming from the treetops as it played the song of death, a heart-rending tune yet there was a warning beneath its’ longing voice.

  The air grew warmer as they flitted through the forest. Time and again, they heard hushed whispers, the voices of the wild calling to each other. Even with the birds chirping and the beasts of the air calling to each other, something else was growing in the forest. Furry creatures chattered from the treetops, angrily scolding the four as they continued their perilous journey northeast to the realm of the dranagin.

  One day a darkness hung heavy in the air. Although they were used to the dim light of the forest, now the daylight seemed to fade into a sulky hull, hiding its face from the shadows of the forest. The trees above grew thicker, twining their branches together and shutting out the light with the evergreen leaves. A sudden chill began to rise, forcing the four to stay close together.

  Their path was unhindered, and shortly, instead of tumbling and struggling their way through the thicket, the ground opened up in patches, where slippery pine needles lay, allowing them to hasten across the flattened ground.

  “Have you been here before?” Phyllis asked Cuthan and Artenvox, scratching the back of her neck in unease. Something tickled there, but she wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Nay,” Artenvox replied. “The forest has tricks of its own. Mayhap I have been here; mayhap I haven’t. I stayed east while Cuthan drifted west.”

  Cuthan glanced back at Phyllis as he strode through the forest, the playful grin returning to his calm face. “What he means,” he clarified, “is that the forest decides where you go. It shifts and changes as it pleases.”

  “Not this time.” Ilieus reached
for a tree branch to steady her footing as pine needles slipped under her feet. “This time it will let us pass.”

  “Is that another one of your…visions?” Phyllis softened her voice as she spoke to Ilieus, trying not to be frustrated with the situation.

  “Yes.” Ilieus nodded as she pulled her hood over her face. “It will try to stop us, but it will let us pass.”

  “‘It’? As in the forest?” Artenvox paused, searching Ilieus’s hidden face with his sapphire eyes. Phyllis saw something like alarm pass through them.

  Ilieus shrugged. She kept her head down as she walked forward.

  That night, they camped in the hollow of a tree. Few words were spoken as they watched the gloom of the forest before they finally slept, fitfully and uneasily. Something was approaching, causing the disturbance in the forest. It wasn’t the animals.

  The farther they ventured in the wild, the more intrigued Phyllis grew. “Do others come here?” she asked Cuthan as he trailed behind her one morning. “Other Crons and Tiders? Aside from the Treasure Hunters?”

  Cuthan was startled; his emerald eyes were wide as he ducked his head below an overhanging bough. “Mayhap,” he remarked. “But the forest keeps each to his or her own path.”

  “Is that why you and Artenvox thought each other dead when you first came here?”

  “Ah, you heard that?” Artenvox stopped on a slight swell in the land. There was a gurgling sound from beneath the ground and then nothing.

  “Yes,” Phyllis went on as the noise faded away. “You said as much.”

  “We came here together, with our fathers seeking…” Cuthan explained. “We started off together, wandering through this beautiful world, but soon the beasts of the forest attacked, and we were separated. Father and I found streaks of blood and clumps of flesh, and we assumed the worst.”

  Phyllis shuddered and glanced at Ilieus, who walked on with her hooded head down, lost in her own thoughts.